On Nearly Making a Massive Mistake

Did you know that two years ago I almost made the biggest mistake of my life? 

Let's talk about my main squeeze, CB today. I without a doubt feel like I've found the perfect person for me. Not only did I get so lucky to find the guy that enjoys everything I enjoy (minus Real Housewives), I am confident when I say that I too, am perfect for him. We have a mutual respect for one another, and a completely equal love. 

I think I feel luckiest for that last fact. 

Everything is equal. I couldn't say I love him more, or he loves me more... it is the exact same feeling from both parties involved. 

When I first joined Match.com (how we met, read this post for more details) I thought about what exactly I wanted from a relationship. The only conclusion I continued to draw was that I wanted a partner in crime. 

At the time, what I believe I meant by that was that I wanted someone to grab my hand and take me skipping through the streets of Deep Ellum, popping in and out of watering holes until 2am. If we are being completely honest here, I clearly wasn't looking for a relationship, but rather a bestie to party with. 

What I found on match.com though was an equal, perfectly suited for every single aspect of my life.... that I nearly passed on. 

The crazy thing about CB was that he was not what I thought I wanted. I've always dated guys that are well over 6 feet tall, and for some reason I was obsessed with finding a guy that was at least that tall. 

CB is about 5'10, I'm 5'8. I remember reading his profile and thinking, "Man he owns his own business, seems like he has a lot of fun with friends, big into being with family, loves sports... but he's only 5'10. Ugh." 

Will someone please go back in time and smack me right in the face?!?!! 

I would've passed on the easiest, most romantic, funnest, carefree, deepest love I have ever felt, or could even have dreamt of feeling, because I thought I wanted, no - needed, someone 5 inches taller. Dear lord, looking back on it that is insane. 

On our second date while CB was driving me home, sitting in standstill Dallas traffic, we had what turned out to be a very important conversation. He talked about the way someone's looks, and your physical attraction to a person can change dramatically as you get to know them. Neither of us remember why this came up, but man is it the truth. Every day, every second I spend with CB, he gets sexier and more attractive to me. I can't look at that man and find a single thing I want to change now, because I'm in love with him. 

Proof that first impressions, like someone's height or their looks, just don't matter in the grand scheme of things, only personality and how that person makes you feel. 

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The Story of Longhorn Polo Shirt Guy

In April 2014 I first signed up for Match.com, and it was mostly awful. That is, verbatim, what I tell everyone who asks me how Match was. 

My Match Profile Pic  

I was looking for someone who might one day be a father figure in my dogs' lives. I was taking this very seriously. If not for me, for them. 

I'd message back and forth with guys, then I would just stop responding to people, for no real reason -- their hair is just simply too fluffy. I think I secretly didn't really want to be dating because I was petrified of it.

A total of three boys somehow managed to make plans with me. I was so damn nervous to go out with someone I'd never met before. Looking back, I'm shocked I managed to get the courage to leave the house the first time, let alone a second time and third time. 

The first date I went on, the guy drank 6 different drinks. On a Monday. All of the drinks were vastly different. He told me he didn't like to have the same thing twice. Yikes. He had a white Russian, a glass of merlot, a daiquiri, a craft beer, a whiskey and coke and a glass of chardonnay. It was weird, he was weird. He then got furious at me when I told him the next day that I didn't think we'd be a good fit.

Not a good start to online dating for Sarah. 

The guy from the second date was really cute. Too cute. He made me so self-conscious. All I could think was how fat and ugly he must think I am. He didn't message me ever again after that first date and it kind of broke my heart. Not because I liked him, but because it left me feeling like I was an atrocious beast that didn't even deserve so much as a follow up message. 

After that second date, I pretty much stopped participating, stopped looking at profiles, stopped responding to messages. I was honestly just really sad over the whole idea of dating. Yes I'm aware I was being dramatic, but that's how I get. I overreact. 

About a month later, I finally logged on simply to look at who had sent me messages. I paid for 3 months up front, so might as well just look. It was depressing, but I really just didn't care to respond to a single one of those messages. Not even the ones clearly written just for me.

I was at work at the time, and up pops this message in the chat app. I'd been messaged in the chat app 2 or 3 times before, all by shirtless bathroom selfies, with messages that read, "wanna meet up 2nite?" 

This message though, was not from a shirtless bathroom selfie guy, but rather a seemingly normal dude in a Texas Longhorn polo shirt. 

"Fantasy football and sports fanatic? What are you trying to do, get every guy in Dallas to message you?" 

I giggled at my desk and wrote him back. We had a few witty comments back and forth and I felt genuinely excited about this whole thing for the very first time. Then the chat app crashed. 

THE APP CRASHED. 

I didn't have access to his profile anymore, I couldn't find him. I was frantic trying to find his profile again. Go damn figure, the first guy that I was into, now I can't find him. It was like reverse Cinderella. I was looking for the Longhorn Polo shirt that fit my guy, in a sea of Longhorn Polo shirts.

Turns out, based on the next email I received, he was frantically trying to find me too. An email pops up on my screen...

"That chat app is terrible! I had trouble finding your profile again, but I hope we can talk again soon!"

A big smile popped on my face. It was Longhorn polo shirt guy. To my shock, I liked Longhorn Polo Shirt Guy. I messaged him back, immediately, as fast as my fingers would allow. Like I tell anyone who asks, Match.com was mostly awful.... that is until it introduced me to the love of my life. 

So yeah, I met Chalupa Batman on Match.com. Big whoop, wanna fight about it? 

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The Challenge That Will Truly Test Even The Strongest of Relationships

There is one event that comes along that will seriously test even the most stable relationships. If you can make it through this test, you can make it through anything. Many couples don't survive. Those who do, will never be the same. A very select few make it through unscathed. 
I'm of course talking about your first trip as a couple to Ikea. 
You walk in with your significant other, hand-in-hand, all smiles. Some couples though, unknowingly, have already screwed up before their car even finds the parking lot. These are the couples that have planned on eating at Ikea. 
Pro Tip: Eat before arriving at Ikea. 
"But Sarah, their meatballs!!" No. The cafeteria at Ikea is located in the middle of the store. Meaning you have to make it through round 1, the staging area, before ever arriving at a meatball. Planning on eating at Ikea is a classic rookie mistake. They sell the meatballs in a frozen pack to go, buy those instead. 
CB and I made our first serious trip to Ikea over the weekend. I say serious, because our first time there didn't really count. We had no intention of buying anything, alas, not a true test of our strength as a couple. It's all fun and games when you're strolling through Ikea playing make believe. You sit on couches, you marvel at the prices, you don't think about getting it home or building anything, you don't take 4 trillion pictures of red aisle/bin tags.... heck, you can casually even eat the meatballs. But when it is time to buy, it's a different ball game. 
We of course ate at Jimmy Johns before we arrived. This ain't my first rodeo. 
We managed to zoom through the couches, coffee tables, storage units and entertainment centers before we had our first real challenge. If I were a TV producer I would have a reality show that simply followed couples through Ikea. Kind of like wipeout, only cabinet drawers bust out of no where to punch you in the gut. 
Our first challenge came in the kitchen section when I began opening every last drawer and cabinet that said "peek inside." As I mentioned here, we have a serious organizational challenge on our hands, you never know what is inside each drawer. CB kept his cool, and even joined in the fun after seeing that one of the cabinets contained a trash can holder that rolled in and out with ease. Neat. 
In round one, we managed to choose a bed we both agreed on, picked out dressers with the intention that CB would build and I would IKEA hack, survived a potential hiccup when I spent 45 minutes trying to choose between a high gloss white desk and a plain white desk (big decisions here people) and quite literally sprinted through the children's section to complete round one. 
Round two, the marketplace, was a breeze. A breeze that I'll take all the credit for. Being the single girl apartment dweller, I know Ikea's shortcuts like Lisa Turtle knows every mall from here to Tijuana. Grab a yellow bag, make a quick stop at bedding, browse kitchen quickly to see if there is anything you must have or will die, plan to spend time in the bathroom section since that isn't part of round 1 and shortcut past lighting, picture frames and flowers without passing go or collecting $200. 
Round two, complete. If memory serves me right, I *think* we even arrived at round 3 holding hands. 
Round 3, the warehouse. Round 3 separates the men from the boys. CB pulled out the flatbed cart and we were on our way to aisle 28, bin 12. His cart wouldn't roll straight, I could see the irritation trying to crawl on his face as he was forced to push left in an effort to go straight. As I looked around, not a soul was smiling. Couples had their arms crossed, giving their partners looks that would kill. 
As we walked down aisle 28, I pictured us walking in slow motion to our final fear factor challenge where we'd have to hold our breath underwater for 17 minutes.... or arrange 48 boxes, all different shapes and sizes, on a flatbed.... so, same thing. 
One extra flatbed, 13 boxes clearly filled with solid bricks, 4 giant "I'm getting really effing fed up right now," groans and 2 furry $12 rugs that kept sliding off the sides of the flatbed later we were ready to check out. We chose the longest line. This was it. Would we make it?!
After we loaded the last box in the bed of CB's truck, we high-fived.... WHILE SMILING!!!! We did it. We are the American Dream. 
*As this story went to press, CB and Sarah broke up 12 minutes in to building the first dresser.*

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Always Clearly Define A Bet // The Story of Sarah + CB

I'm a very sore loser. If someone makes a bet with me and I'm beaten fair and square, well fine, ok. But if I see any kind of wiggle room or loop hole in your bet, I'm going to pounce. With that said, I have a little story for you....
Let's talk about me and CB and some of our first dates. If you don't know who I'm talking about when I say CB, go here. 

Since I'm sure you're dying to know, on our first date CB and I met for drinks in my hood at a bar called Twlight Lounge in Deep Ellum. A week later, we went on a second date when he took me to an FC Dallas soccer game with a few of his good friends. I thought this was pretty cute that he liked me enough, after just one date, to meet his friends! 
Our courtship, for lack of a word from the 21st century, was all just so easy, so simple, so enjoyable. He didn't make me wait, just to play the game boys are supposed to play. After each date, I would have a text that night thanking me for the date, and then a text the next morning setting up the next date! So by the time that third date rolled around, I was pretty excited to get to see him again. The third date was when I started falling for the kid. 
On our third date, we met at Lonestar Park to bet on the night's 9 horse races. I had recently gotten back from the Kentucky Derby, so level = expert would have clearly described my horse racing knowledge. I may or may not have had my own tutorial pulled up, The Girl's Guide: How To Bet On Horse Racing, every time I went to the betting counter. Cool, Sarah. You're so cool. 

It was Saturday night, we had a few beers and were having an absolute blast. CB asked if I'd like to head down and watch the last race from the railing. Keep in mind at this point, we had not had our first kiss yet. When we got down to the railing, here is how the conversation went down. 
CB: "We should make a bet on this last race. A bet between the two of us." 
Sarah: "What do you have in mind?" 
CB: "If my horse wins, you have to give me a kiss." 
Sarah: "And if mine wins?"
CB: "Whatever you want..." 
Sarah: "You have to take me to a Rangers game!"      Looking back, I'm sure he was hoping I would say I wanted a kiss too. But first off, in my defense, my mind always defaults to free tickets. Second, in my defense, I thought that was giving him the message that I'd like to see him again. I guess it didn't occur to me that a kiss also meant I'd like to see him again. 
But the bets were in place, and the horses were off. 
As they crossed the finish line, CB's horse finished in 2nd place. My horse died I think. Or took a bathroom break. Or decided to kick his horseshoes off, grab some popcorn and an umbrella drink and watch from the lido deck. 
CB turns to me with this big grin on his face, and all I can think is what on earth is that grin for?
Sarah: "Ah well, neither horse won! Whomp whomp ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ "  (and yes, i often say whomp whomp out loud) 
CB: "No my horse finished before yours, you owe me a kiss!" 
Sarah: *goes HAM for no reason other than to attack loophole in bet. Screams...*  "WHAT??! NO NO NO. THAT IS NOT WHAT WE AGREED UPON. YOU SAID IF YOUR HORSE WON. YOUR HORSE CAME IN SECOND PLACE. IT DID NOT WIN. IF YOU'RE NOT FIRST YOU'RE LAST. NO, YOU LOSE. I LOSE. WE BOTH LOSE. THE BET IS NULL AND VOID. NULL AND VOID. GOOD DAY SIR."
CB: 

I did want a kiss! Once I had realized what I had done -- pulled a Sarah -- I felt terrible!! That poor guy. He just had a girl, that he really liked, vehemently argue against giving him a kiss. 
But it wasn't like that, in my mind, at all. It was because I'm a sore loser, and found a major loophole in his bet, and attacked without thinking. The kid didn't even try to kiss me goodbye that night. Heck, I'm pretty sure he didn't even so much as shake my hand. I think he may have even lightly jogged away from me after we said goodnight.  
Thank god for the Rangers' bet I made, that made it clear I did want to see him again. To this day, we make bets all the time, and laugh about this story every time we do. But really, he should have clarified that the horse did not, in fact, have to finish in first place to win the bet. 
Poor kid, just wanted a kiss from the girl he really liked, on their third date. Instead, he got the most violent defender of loophole horse betting of all time. #nailedit
 

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Chalupa Batman Guest Posts

Chalupa Batman here. I am stepping in for a blogger with her first case of writer’s block that she has made me aware of. Usually she just pulls the blogs out of a hat somewhere and like 5 minutes later they are up on the site looking all touched up and beautiful. I think she must wake up at night and work on them while the rest of us sleep.

I was completely new to the whole world of blogging that y’all (yes, I am Texan) live in, prior to meeting Sarah. I was instantly hooked on her blog for obvious reasons after she and I started dating, and was kind of waiting for my first mention with a little bit of anticipation. She of course did not mention me without asking my permission first, and I was very grateful about that.

I run my own business, and have a number of employees who work for me and my partners. As a result of that, I am very hesitant to put any personal information out on the internet. I don’t have facebook, instagram, and do not use twitter at all anymore either. I want to be able to control the image I portray to my staff, and don’t want them to see me for the fake that I really am!!! Haha, just kidding of course! I keep my work relationships very professional, almost to the point of boring, but I do that for my own reasons.

Ok, so now that I got past all of that…. Sarah and the rest of the blog world are on the complete other end of the spectrum. Y’all have absolutely no problem (in fact some even make a career of it so I'm told) posting every single detail of your lives out in the permanent record books of the world wide interwebz. This would terrify me. I cannot imagine putting all of that out there for fear that someday it would be used against me in some malicious way.

However, I have figured out over time that this is why I really enjoy reading some of your blogs. I am oddly interested in the random and often personal information that you are willing to put out there. As I started reading a TON of Sarah’s blogs, and even some of the others she has linked on her site (Hi Helene), I have gained a lot of respect for what it is you bloggers do.

First off, I have realized that it is very hard work to put good content out on a regular basis, and secondly that it is something that you have to be conscious of all day every day. Sarah is constantly thinking about taking pictures to keep up with her activities for her blog, and is very mindful of what would look good and what things would not come across very well. She has a lot of “Aha” moments where she turns to me and says “That would make for a great blog!” That big ole brain of hers is always working.

In addition to blogging, y’all kill social media!! I am fairly certain that without bloggers, Instagram and Pinterest would not be anywhere near as cool of a place for women to spend their time. I constantly find myself peeking over at Sarah’s screen when she is flipping through instagram straight flexin, and for the most part, I am very entertained with what I see. If I had a vote though, less wine glass photos, and more pictures of you out and about enjoying yourselves! I think this is good Instagram advice for either male or females. I don’t really ever see myself getting into Instagram or Pinterest on my own, but I also wouldn’t consider it that far of a reach now having seen some of the amazing things that Sarah shows me from day to day.

I think that as far as your world of blogging goes, it will be pretty tough sledding to get regular male readers, but I don’t think it is outside of the realm of possibility though. Obviously, I am not your primary demographic of course, but throw a baseball game, or a brewery tour or two in there from time to time and you may just get a few male followers out of the deal. We can tolerate a lot more of the girl stuff than y’all think!

Well, I feel like I rambled on here with no real objective, but I am a complete novice to all of this. I told Sarah that if some ideas come to me for a guest post from time to time that I would ask her if I could throw them on here. She was pretty excited about it, so I would imagine she will pressure me to do that!

Until next time, CB

--------------------------

But but but... what do you mean no more wine glass photos? 

Well there goes my whole instagram account...

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Gift This // Not That :: Christmas Gift Ideas For Men

Before I even start this post, if you really want the sad but honest truth on gift ideas for men or a perfect gift guide for men.... go back in my archives and check out my Valentine's Day Gift Guide. Men are just real simple.
For Christmas this year, CB and I got each other tickets to a two day music festival in Dallas as our gifts to each other. With that said, we both wanted to have something for the other to open on Christmas, so we are doing stocking stuffers this year and we set a $50 limit. I've been searching high and low on Pinterest for gift guides for dudes, but I have had zero luck finding anything helpful. And then I remembered oh yeah, I have a blog, I should be doing these lists. 
So I decided to make a dude gift guide for you today. But it is a little different. I took several of the ideas I saw on Pinterest and offered way better (IMO!) suggestions for about the same price. I asked CB for his opinion on these too, so this is actually backed by a dude. Although he insisted  that all every dude wants is a Cabela's gift card............

I saw many gift guides that suggested very, very expensive "briefcases". Unless you're dating a J.Crew model (and if you are, bravo to you) I would opt for the GoPro instead. They can take it fishing, camping, golfing, hunting... whatever it is they like to do.... and re-watch the OMGGreatestCatchEverrrrrr, over and over again. 

I saw a lot of gift guides that suggested getting your boyfriend boxers for Christmas. Maybe it is because I've only been with my man for less than a year, but that seems odd to me at this point in our relationship. For $18 get you underwear, wrap it and put it in his stocking instead!   

 Engraved flasks are a nice thought, but when will they ever use it? The next time they find themselves stuck in that pesky 1920s Prohibition Era? Scratch the flask off your list and get him a nice bottle of whiskey from a local distillery! The brand above is just right down the street from me in Fort Worth, Texas!

I see books and calendars about bacon being gifted all the time. You know where things like that go? A junk drawer before they eventually find themselves in the trashcan or at the goodwill. For 8 bucks, just cook the man up some actual bacon instead. 

 From my dating experience, the mom generally buys him a nice button down shirt or two for Christmas. Instead, for the same price, get him a jersey from his favorite football team!  May I be so bold as to recommend #82 from the Dallas Cowboys?

I think every gift guide I saw had a shaving kit listed. In the event that your man already owns an electric razor, which doesn't even require shaving cream, ditch the novelty (and quite expensive) shaving kit and put that money toward a StubHub Gift Card.  ----
Is there anything you've seen on gift guides that you thought was totally ridiculous?  What are you planning on getting your man for Christmas??

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Chalupa Batman

  When I have big events coming up, like a birthday party or a girl's weekend road trip or a vacation, I get so excited in the days leading up to that event that I feel like I may explode. Then when the actual event arrives, I find myself getting sadder and sadder for every hour that ticks off the clock. I spend the entire day/weekend/week thinking about how much time I have left with my friends, how much longer I have left at this party, how many days until I have to leave the beach or leave my family. 
And when that time comes that the event or trip is finally over, and I have to say my goodbyes, I drop into a level of sadness that can't be fixed by shopping or even pizza delivery. I desperately didn't want to go back to normal, boring mundane life. The life I had for the first several months after moving to Dallas. The life where I wake up at 6:30am, shower, go to work, sit in rush hour from 5:00pm - 5:45pm, finally get home, go to work out or watch tv, eat dinner, go to bed.... followed by weekends that didn't include any plans other than maybe the mall and dog park if I was feeling wild and crazy. 
So yeah, you know that feeling when you have so much excitement over something, and you don't ever want that excitement to end? That is exactly the way this boy makes me feel every single day. He makes me feel so absurdly excited about my life, and I just don't ever want it to end.   
Oh yeah, did I mention there is a boy in my life right now and not just heart eyed emoji vagueness?
It's weird too, because I've never felt like this before. I've never been the girl to jump around, get all giddy and talk non-stop about a boy. I've never been the girl to be so honest. I just want to tell him everything. I want him to know everything. I want him to know the stupid thought that has popped in my head. I want him to know my past. I want him to know everything about my past, the good and the bad. 
Life is beyond good right now. He should probably be the blogger because he always has the perfect sweet thing to say to just slap a goofy smile on my face. What can I even say right now other than, I feel like the luckiest girl in the world to have found this kid. 
I'm rambling because I didn't know how to address this post with you guys -- obviously seeing as I've been making y'all wait forever and only using heart eyed emojis! But bottom line here is that I'm one happy girl and I don't care who knows it! Hashtag boom!
Well, this aforementioned boy doesn't want his picture or name on Le Venus Trapped in Mars (yes, VTIM is of French origin, everyone knows that). I know it may be shocking to us to hear that not everyone wants to put all of the information on the internet... I mean, he doesn't even have Facebook (wtf?!). 
So no pictures, no names... what should I call this kid on the blog? Which leads us to the title of this post. If you've ever seen the show The League, also known as the greatest show on tv, also known as the show that premiers season 6 tonight at 10pm EST on FXX, then you'll know the name Chalupa Batman. 

Backstory if you want it: the main couple is having a baby. The show is all about fantasy football, and long story short, the naming rights of their baby manage to get traded for the first pick in their Fantasy Football draft. So Taco, the character who earned said naming rights, names the couple's baby Chalupa Batman. 

I have no idea why I want to call my boyfriend Chalupa Batman on this blog, but it occurred to me the other day when I was driving over to his house and I think it is hilariously funny, and 100% better than using the word boyfriend or boy or bae, or snuffleupagus every time. So, Chalupa Batman is what we're going with. Well, until I can finally get him to come around and let me post names and pictures... fingers crossed! 
So there we go, please direct all interrogation to the comment box. 

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The Fixer

Like most girls, life has brought me many types of boys. 
---- holy hell this is a post about boys ---- 
Ok ok people, don't get too excited. It is only Tuesday, after all. 

So, like I was saying.... life has brought me many types of boys. When they dropped the L bomb, I believed it because it was true, they did love me in the manner they knew how; maybe in the way their parents loved one another, or in the way they were loved by those around them.  They loved me in the way they were raised to believe the meaning of the word. 
Any kind of love you're receiving from someone is good as long as you're receiving it, right? Who cares about anything else as long as you're hearing those three little words every girl wishes for? Feeling love must equate to being in love. 
But how many times in the past have I loved someone just because they vocalized their love for me early on? What do I want out of a relationship? What will make me love a man as much as he loves me? *cough* cowboys season tickets *cough*. I am finally stopping to think about that. Hey it only took me 27 years to stop and think about this, not bad, huh? Better 27 than 57! 

Well I now know what I want. I want a fixer. 
I want someone who is going to work with me to fix my problems, our problems. I want someone who is going to fix the toilet when it won't stop running. I want someone who is going to fix the dent I made in the wall when I was trying to DIY something, even though we all know I am physically incapable of DIYing anything. I want someone who is going to fix things around the house for me, but more importantly, someone who will be patient when it was my fault for messing it up in the first place. Becuase, Sarah Webb + Wine. That is all. 

I want someone to fix the tears falling from my face after having a bad day. Not someone who impatiently critiques where I went wrong. Not someone who pinpoints the reason for my failures and barks 12 suggestions I should immediately go do to solve the problem. I'm smart. I work hard. I'll figure out a way to make amends to whatever I've screwed up at work or in my day-to-day. The fixer that I want knows I'm smart. He knows that I am fully capable of actually fixing the day's problems. He believes in me, and has full confidence that I'll solve the problem on my own, but knows his job is to fix my tears in ways that are not so black and white. My fixer makes dinner reservations, because he knows lean cuisines never dry tears from a bad day (especially because most of my Lean Cuisines in the freezer right now all require 3 minute mark stirring, ew), my fixer has the stubhub website readily available  because there is nothing that makes me happier than having plans, any plans. My fixer has flowers in hand because what girl still has tears when her man shows up with Tuesday flowers, my fixer knows exactly what will make things better. For me. 

I want someone who is going to fix my weaknesses. Someone who will fix my insecurities, making those insecurities a source of confidence instead. Oh, and most importantly, my fixer will not only let me, but want me to be his fixer too. 
My past relationships? We will call them my non-fixers, and guess what? They'll be wonderful fixers to some new girl. They'll meet a woman they want to fix things for. They'll meet a woman, and immediately know exactly how to fix every problem she has. Their new girl will want 12 suggestions she can use immediately to solve her day's problems. Their new girl will then love that he wants to stay in with her, and not face the crowds at the local restaurants and bars. And that woman will be so happy and grateful and passionately in love, because she found her fixer. 
And somewhere, very close by, another girl's non-fixer, is actually just waiting, excited to be my fixer. And with that said, *insert giant grinning emoji face* here.   

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